


She got Coldstone Lips That'll Take Him Away

by TheBashfulPoet



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because I can, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff, No Angst, Snow, Snowball Fight, Tumblr Prompt, just fluff, they are all still at the dropship, winter at the dropship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”</p>
<p>Or the one where the 100 are still at the Dropship and everyone is blissfully happy and enjoying a little snow. Well everyone but Clarke that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She got Coldstone Lips That'll Take Him Away

            It was snowing. No, scratch that, it's _been_ snowing for the past 3 weeks and Clarke has had enough. Sure, at first it was excited, they had just managed to finish building the cabins and trade with Anya and the rest of her tribe was going without  a hitch; so, when the first few snowflakes began to fall, Clarke was thrilled.

            She'd never seen anything more beautiful than the way snow would drape everything in a pure white blanket and they way everything just seemed to fall silent. It was breathtaking. But then the rest of the season came rolling in, brining the chilly winds and a cold so deep Clarke could feel it in her bones. No matter how many blankets she piled on at night, nor how many layers she pull on during the day, Clarke could not shake the chill. She even tried cuddling between Jasper and Monty one night, but all she got was some bruises and a pool of drool on her shirt.

            What Clarke hated even more than the cold, was the way everyone apparently forgot how to use common sense at the first sight of snow. In the past few weeks, she's seen more and more patients than she had when they first landed almost 6 months ago. She couldn't go  10 minutes without someone slipping on a patch of ice, or getting a fever, or God forbid, someone fall through the ice of the lake. (Thankfully that only happened twice before Clarke  banned everyone from going within 50ft of the damn thing.) Even with Monty and Harper's help, Clarke found herself drowning in the work. Most nights she didn't even make it back to her cabin, just climbed the ladder to the third floor of the dropship (which had long since been converted to storage) and crashed on the makeshift mattress someone had made up.

            It was going on 4 weeks when Bellamy saunters into medbay,  rifle firmly strapped on his back over a sturdy jacket they traded for at their last meeting with the grounders, and leans to hover over Clarke's workbench. She is the middle of cutting up some herbs for a fever medication Monty had told her about.

            "What do you want, Bellamy? I'm busy."

            "When was the last time you ate something?"

            She puts down the knife, " I don't know, last night. Why?"

            He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. Clarke tries not to stare at the way the jacket hugged his biceps. "Clarke."

            Her eyes flicker back to his, "Huh?"

            He smirks, "I said, what did you eat?"

            "That deer thing you guys caught a couple of days ago, why?"

            Bellamy groans, "Clarke! That was at _least_ a day ago, if not two! Are you telling me that you haven't eaten since then?"

            She shrinks away, "Maybe?"

            "That's it." He grabs her wrist and yanks her from her stool, dragging her toward the exit.

            "Where are you taking me?"

            "To get some food in your system." He throws a look over his shoulder, "You know for the camp's doctor, you suck at taking care of yourself."

            "I don't have time to take care of myself." She huffs, "Too busy taking care of everyone else."

            "Well everyone else can tough it out on their own for a few hours." They burst through the door to the dining hall, one of the first buildings they finished, and plops her down at the table. "You're off duty."

            Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but he is already walking away towards the kitchen area in the back. She look around to see Lincoln and Octavia hunkered down in the corner of the room, sitting entirely too close by Bellamy's standards, whispering something to each other. When they raise their heads to meet her eyes, Lincoln offers her a small wave before returning to whatever they were doing. Bellamy returns not too soon after that with a bowl of broth and small plate of berries. He sets each of the dishes in front of her.

            "Here, eat this." He settles down in the seat across and gives her a pointed stare until she lifts the bowl to her lips (they have yet to trade for utensils yet) and takes a small sip.

            The hot liquid slides down her throat and land happily in her stomach. She can't help the some hum of enjoyment. "This is good. Who made it?"

            Bellamy leans on the table, resting his hand on his cheek, "Murphy, believe it or not."

            She takes a bigger drink," Mm, I knew there was a reason I let him back in the camp."

            "Yeah, because who cares if he slits one of our throats in our sleep, at least he can make a decent bowl of broth!" He grumbles under his breath.

            "Bellamy." She reprimands and he raises a hand in defense.

            "I'm just saying is all."

            "Well stop. We let him in and he's staying, unless he slits one of our throats. Then he's gotta go."

            "So comforting."

            She downs the rest of the bowl, but when she sets it down, Bellamy is smirking at her.

            "Shut up." She reaches for a couple of berries off the plate and pops them into her mouth.

            "I didn't say anything."

            "Your smirk says otherwise." The smirk in question only grows wider.

            They fall in silence after that, only speaking to trade little tidbits about the camp's activities, though the snow had put a stop to most of it. It's not until they return the dishes to the kitchen and are walking back to medbay, when they see a couple of kids running by with snowballs.

            "Hey!" Clarke calls after them, "Don't run, you'll slip!"

            Bellamy laughs, "Geez, Clarke, loosen up."

            "You're not the one who's going to have to patch them up." She scowls.

            "You're just no fun."

            "No fun?" Clarke scoffs, "I'm fun. I'm the _epitome_ of fun."

            "Yeah, sure, Clarke." He turns his back to her and Clarke scoops up some snow and flings it at him. He whips around and levels her with a glare. Little did he know, she had another rolled in her hands ready to go.

            "Did you just throw a snowball at me?" His eyes flicker to the one in her hands, "Is that another one?" His face hardens, "Don't you dare throw that snowba-" The ball hits him square in the chest. "God damn it, Clarke! This means _war_."

            Clarke laughs as she quickly runs for cover behind a nearby tree. Bellamy's snowball smacks into the bark by her head. "You're going to have to try harder than that, Bell!" She scoops up another ball and makes a dash for the cover of a building. She peaks around a corner, before quickly ducking back to avoid another of Bellamy's shots. "Ha! Missed again!" She croons, popping back up to throw another. This time is lands in his hair, the white of the snow a stark contrast to his dark curls.

            He shakes the snow free and his eyes search for hers, "Oh you're so getting it!"

            "Maybe if you can hit me!" She bends down to scoop another ball, but when she rises again, he's gone. "Bell?"

            Silence.

            She squints her eyes and carefully takes a step forward, scanning the area for any signs of him. From what she could tell, nothing would have hid Bellamy's height, unless he was pressed low into the ground. There is a sharp crack of a twig from behind her and she whirls round too late. Bellamy is charging at her from behind.

            They fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs and snow, with Clarke pinned beneath Bellamy's weight, the air pushed from her lungs and Bellamy's face inches from her own. They don't say anything, just lay there for a moment. Bellamy's eyes soften as they linger over her face. Clarke's breath hitches and she feels a warm pit in her stomach. When his eyes find hers again, an endless brown clashing with her icy blue, she can see his pupils dilate.

            He lowers down slowly, giving her time to back out if she wanted. Clarke allows herself a small smile. _Always the gentleman_. She surges forward and captures his lips with hers. Both their lips are cold, but his mold perfect against her own and she realizes she doesn't quite mind the cold. One of his hands comes to cup her cheek and he deepens the kiss, lowering his weight fully on her. She can feel the heat of him pressed closely to her torso and legs, chasing away the chill she's been feeling for weeks. One of her hands curl on the back of his neck and the other buries itself deep within his curls.

            When they finally break away, her cheeks are flushed from more than the cold and she's warmed to her very core. She chase his lips for a quick peck and he rests his forehead against her, a smile tugging on his lips.

            "I've been waiting to do that for months." He lays a soft kiss on her nose, "Ever since that trip to the bunker."

            "Should have done it sooner then." She grins, scratching the base of his skull lightly.

            He opens his mouth to say something else, when someone clears their throat. They turn to see Monty staring at them with an amused look on his face.

            "Hate to be the one to break this up- seriously we've all  been making bets- but some kids just came in with sprained ankles and I think one of them actually has a broken arm."

            Clarke groans, "Of course." Her head thumps against the ground, "Let me guess they were running in the snow and they slipped?"

            "Yup."

            Clarke groans again. Bellamy laughs and rolls off to help her up. Once they were both vertical, he nudges her slightly toward medbay. "Duty calls."

            Clarke pinches the bridge of her nose, "I hate the snow."

            Bellamy laughs and leans down to whisper something in her ear, his breath hot against the cold skin. "I'll come by later and we can finish what we started." He winks and walks off without another word, leaving a very red and very flustered Clarke.

            Monty snicker and Clarke whirls around pointing an accusing finger, "You get no room. I still remember finding a certain beanie wearing boy half naked on my workbench last week." Monty quickly snaps his mouth closed. "That's what I thought."

            She quickly walks past Monty and makes her way to the medbay. _Well at least I figured out the cold problem_. She smiles to herself, _Now I could only solve the injury problem…_  


**Author's Note:**

> SO guys don't worry I'm still writing Cracks in Our Armor and as far as I'm concerned it will be out on Halloween at the latest, if that changes I'll let you know!
> 
> Have a prompt you'd like to see? Come drop it in my [ask](http://awfullybashful.tumblr.com/ask) and I might do it! Or simply come talk to me on tumblr @ [AwfullyBashful](http://awfullybashful.tumblr.com/)


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